


Cold therapy

by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden)



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Cold, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gil and Dani trying to look after their boy, Hurt/Comfort, Rain, Sick Malcolm, Sickfic, character study ish of sorts?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-27 02:11:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21110987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Of_Dresden/pseuds/ClaraCivry
Summary: Malcolm loves the cold, loves being out in the rain.Gil worries about his health. And with good reason.Sick Malcolm, conflicted Gil, helpful Dani.Based on the alternate whump prompt "infection"





	Cold therapy

He's always liked the cold better. Since he was a kid. He liked the coats and when you could see your own breath. The cold had so many advantages.  
  
First of all, the big clothes hid most of his body and there were no comments about how terribly skinny he was, how unhealthy he seemed and the classic haha we should feed you some cheeseburger. Whereas in the summertime he felt at a loss as to what to wear, too hot to be wearing his usual suits but uncomfortable on t-shirts and shorts that let everybody see not just how skinny he was, but some of his scars.  
  
Where the heat made him less energetic and often more confused and tired (and so may times resulted in a headache), the cold made him feel rejuvenated in a way, alive, awake. It was something that always made him feel better, even if most people seemed to hate it. The cold made his ideas sharper, it made him more alert even when he had slept little or nothing, the cold made him be more there.

(Heat was terrible for a man that usually had trouble sleeping. Even with air conditioning, he found himself too hot to get any shuteye for days and days and whatevr sleep he amanged to get was often of very bad quality)

But the cold... Not just the cold, the rain, too. Another way of waking himself up and trying to be a person after not sleeping was taking a shower, often with cold water, and it made him feel at peace, somehow. Happy. And it helped, but it wasn't as good as a nice storm. Staying down in the rain, getting drenched. There was something primal, something wonderful about it. For a moment, with the rain droplets falling down his face, there were no issues. The thunder and lightning were so big, so strong that him and all his many issues disappeared for a while. He was an ant in the middle of that thunderstorm.

He had tried all kinds of therapy (and was still in the process, continuing them, of course) music, sports, regular chatting, medication, pets, flash cards, strict routines, anything and everything that was supposed to help with the night terrors, the tremors and the everlasting nausea. And some of those things worked, to a bigger or a lesser degree. But it didn't compare. It didn't compare to going to the street and feeling the cold in each and every one of your bones, to being slapped in the face by the cold, to be drowned in rain and go to bed with the wondrous sound of rain lulling him to sleep.

Nature's way of taking care of him, of helping.

Nobody quite understood it. Someone with as many health issues as Bright should be fucking terrified of the cold season, or at least dislike it. Not draw a smile when he saw his own breathing and bring chocolate and hot coffee with a smile that said “isn't this the best weather evver?” That was the good part they guessed, that Malcolm seemed to be actually happier and not just putting a good front for the sake of his co-workers.

Still, Gil worried. Because if they were honest, as many hobbies as Malcolm might have had, nothing seemed to cheer him up the same way rain did, and it was quite a risky... inclination. (Why was everything Malcolm liked always dangerous for him?) If he got too cold, he could get sick and serious chest infections could be specially hard on somebody who was always underweight or very close to it, who got no rest and who, after years of sedatives and all kinds of pills had developed resistances against a lot of medication.

If they were really honest, Malcolm could actually die any time he got sick because a) he got worse than regular people because of not eating or sleeping and b) sometimes meds, the only treatment available, didn't work. So, yeah, Gil worried that his bo- Bright may get sick, always told sick officers to either go home or stay clear of the profiler and the man decided to just stay out in the rain. With no umbrella.

Gil had told him about the wonders of raincoats, even got him one with a special heat saving inside, but he said that it wasn't the same. That getting soaked was the point, not staying out in the rain while dry and warm. So yeah, every time cold started coming Gil worried, and was at a corssroads. On the one hand, he wanted, needed him to be healthy. On the other hand, to be healthy he had to be happy because mental health and physical health came hand in hand, moreso in Malcolm's case.

It was mid-November when he started to cough, a dry wracking cough that resonated all over the station. They were just reviewing solme cold cases to make sure that there were no issues after receiving an intriguing e-mail, so they really weren't in a hurry. And his cough were distracting everyone in the building.

“Sorry,” He said, with those stupid blue eyes of his.

Gil put his hand on the boy's forehead forehead and sighed.

“You're burning up.”

“I feel fine! Just a bit chilled, that's all.”

“Bright, you have a high fever and are going to come back with me to your place.”

“But...”

“If you say you're fine we're going to have a problem.” Dani added. “I'll go with you.”

“Thanks, Powell.”

As the hours went by, Malcolm did feel a bit more cold (and not in the good way) and his chest hurt a lot, especially when he coughed or tried to breathe deeply. Which was crap, because he'd really been enjoying this week, and now he would have to spend entire days alone, doing nothing, probably hallucinating (he did have an elevated tendency to get delirious every time he got a fever) and hating everything, specially that stuffy central heating.

Before forcing him to go to bed, Gil found some pyjamas and threw them at him.

“Put this on and come back. No shenanigans.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” Malcolm replied, trying to be humourous but finding it dofficult when his entire chest cavity seemed to want to mmurder him.

Then they helped him to the bed, where he got under a million blankets “so cold, really really cold” and coughed miserably. For a long time.

Gil sighed. He knew something like this could happen and hand't done a thing. It was.... Complicated.

“What do I do, Dani? One of these days one an infection might kill him or cause one his lungs to fail, something permanent. But he likes the cold so damn much.”

“Yeah, and he tries so hard not to be sad. Taking the cold away from him and telling him to stay at home and take cabs when the weather's bad would bring him down. A lot.”

“I don't want to take away one of the fe things that still make him happy despite... everything, but I can't risk the damage this can do. I just... I don't know what to do.”

“It's a tricky situation.”

“Any ideas?”

Dani too looked at the man in the bed, seemingly ten years younger without the suit and the impeccable hair. More vulnerable, more... real.

“We could have changes of clothes so that he can have showers and then have some dry clothes. Your place, my place, the station. Make him have a warm shower always after being in the rain.”

“Doesn't sound too bad.”

“We could also pump him full of viatmin C. Oranges, blackcurrant, spinach. You know, since meds can have bad interactions or create resistances. Just make him so strong that viruses won't have a chance.”

“That seems like more of a challenge.”

“Sometimes you gotta do the most complicated and challenging things for those you love.”

“Very true.” Gil said, noting fondly that apparently Bright was on the list of people you love for Dani too. That was good. She continued.

“Specially when it's someone like that – he's like a maze of traumas and hurt.”

“And yet...”

“Yet you get attached to him so easily.”

“Yeah, you do.” Gil said, smiling. He got attached to a kid over two decades ago and hasn't been able to let go.

“We have to protect him, don't we? Even from himself.”

“Mostly from himself, it would seem.” Dani said, looking at the bed, the outline of a body inside the million blankets.

“And we'll have to fish him out of storms and snow until he's good enough that he doesn't need the cold.”

“I'm up for that.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Gil shivered.

“Damn, is it cold here!”

He said, looking for heating to turn it up. Which he did. To the top.

“You can come with me.” A strangled voice said from the other side of the room. “The bed is really warm. Viruses might happen, though.”

It was okay.

Sometimes a nice friendly amount of warmth was more important than some viruses.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Please do comment!
> 
> leave you thoughts after the beep
> 
> *beeeeep*


End file.
